Gemotions

The screen in front of Mark swam with words, each one a stab of betrayal. The accusations against Alistair Finch, his literary hero, were undeniable. His face became flushed. He felt a knot tighten in his gut.

He thought of the literary gatherings he attended, the conversations about Finch's work, the shared admiration. All of it felt hollow now. He leaned back in his chair, feeling like he was sinking. He closed his eyes.

He thought about his own writing, his own ambitions. They now seemed so fragile, so vulnerable. He took a deep breath, fighting a sudden urge to smash his computer to pieces. His hands were shaking.